Ruthless Greek Boss, Secretary Mistress

Lucy turned and walked stiffly to the door, then looked back, somewhere in his general direction. ‘I can organise my own flight home tomorrow after the press conference. I’d prefer that, and I’m sure you would too. I’ll work out my notice if you insist, but I’m happy to collect my things from the office on Monday too.’

And, opening the door, she slipped out.

Ari watched the door for a long moment. The earth was shifting underneath him. He had been about to refute her reasoning behind why he’d slept with her, but then, when she’d interrupted him and obviously decided that that had to be the case, he hadn’t spoken up.

He could have stopped her from leaving. He could have told her. Why hadn’t he?

Ari sat down heavily onto the ornately brocaded sofa behind him. Without the awful stomach-churning red mist of anger that had gripped him, he had to concede that of course he trusted Lucy over his opportunistic brother any day of the week. This whole scene had all the clumsy and unoriginal hallmarks of Anatolios. But he’d just seen them together and…his mind had imploded.

His fists clenched when he saw how easily he’d misinterpreted the situation. She was wrong in this case. Blood was most certainly not thicker than water. If Lucy had been guilty she’d never have jumped to the conclusion she had. She’d have defended herself vociferously, she’d have cajoled and enticed, perhaps even tried to seduce him into bed to distract him. But he didn’t need reminding that she hadn’t come near him since Paros. His mouth twisted. And could he blame her? When he’d all but hustled her off the island like a fugitive. But he had just been so…so overwhelmed that she’d witnessed his excruciating weakness. She’d seen him cry. And she hadn’t turned away in horror, she’d been gorgeous, sympathetic, understanding…It had been too much.

He couldn’t deal with that. No one had seen that side of him. It had been locked away for so long—he’d been alone against the world for so long…

And that was why he’d let her stand there and believe he’d seduced her deliberately. His life hadn’t been on an even keel since he’d started noticing her, desiring her. That had been part of his knee-jerk response tonight—the knowledge that he’d been so hungry for her that he’d followed her to the room for that and not because he might have suspected her of espionage. He’d felt intensely vulnerable for the brief moment when he had contemplated that that could have been the reality.

He stood abruptly and made for the door. He had to go back downstairs, had to smile and pretend everything was OK, when he felt as if his insides were twisting tight in his gut. Lucy was right. It was over. Where could it go from here anyway? He would not let her see him be weak one more time. No woman was worth that.

The next morning, when the press conference was over, Lucy avoided the scrum of shocked and chattering press and went up to her room. She picked up her one small bag, she was leaving all the bought clothes behind, and went down to the lobby to check out.

She was just arranging for a taxi to take her to the airport when she felt her arm taken in a spine-tinglingly familiar grip and a smooth voice spoke over her to the concierge. ‘My driver will look after her, thank you.’

She stiffened under his touch, her whole body crying out shamefully for more.

‘That’s really not necessary.’

He smoothly moved them away, his hand still on her arm. Lucy fought not to pull it free, afraid he might guess how badly he was affecting her.

‘Lucy—’ he sighed heavily ‘—about last night—’

‘Please. You don’t have to say anything.’

‘I do.’ His hand tightened, and she looked up against her better judgement. His eyes were so green that she felt poleaxed.

‘You were wrong, I never slept with you because I thought you were capable of espionage. I read the situation entirely wrong and I’m sorry. But you’re right…it’s…this—us—is over.’

Lucy tried to school her features, even though she felt as if someone had just stabbed her in the belly. Relief that he had trusted her was eclipsed by sheer pain that she shouldn’t even be feeling. ‘What about…your brother?’

Ari grimaced. ‘I’ll deal with him. It’s not for you to worry about.’

No, thought Lucy faintly, still reeling and hating herself for it. Because she wouldn’t be working for Levakis Enterprises any more.

‘Look, I’m leaving for New York from here for about ten days, to make sure the merger goes smoothly over there. If you still intend to resign—’

For a second Lucy heard nothing but a roaring in her ears—what other option did she possibly have? It cleared just in time for her to hear him say, ‘That should give you time to sort yourself out.’

Lucy nodded dumbly. Even though she wanted this, had asked for this, to be faced with it now was like no other devastation she’d ever felt. But how on earth had she thought it might play out? she admonished herself. Aristotle Levakis would never keep a discarded lover hanging around like a bad smell. And of course they couldn’t go back to a benign working relationship, no matter how she’d thought it might happen.

Ari walked her out to the entrance, where his car was waiting. He handed her in and said, ‘I want to thank you for all your work. This merger wouldn’t have happened nearly as smoothly without you.’

Oh, please just don’t, she almost said. Their affair was reduced to this—trite thanks for her work on the project and for pleasuring her boss in bed in between meetings. The glaring cliché of it all nearly made her want to be ill. Before she could lose control, Lucy grabbed the door handle and pulled it closed firmly, shutting Ari out, but not unfortunately, the pain.

She didn’t look back as the car pulled away, so she didn’t see Ari standing there, his features drawn and almost grey in the glorious Athenian sun. And anyway, even if she had she wouldn’t have believed it.

It was Friday evening, a week later, and Lucy was packing her final bits and pieces into a box, looking around the now empty office. It had been infinitely easier to do this without Ari here, though it had been heart-wrenchingly painful to talk to him on the phone every day, when he’d called to check in or give instructions and hear how interviews were going for a new assistant.

‘I trust you. After all, you’ve been the best assistant I’ve had,’ he’d said when she’d protested that she couldn’t be responsible for hiring someone new.

He’d made no effort to ask her to stay, and even though Lucy didn’t even want that, couldn’t contemplate that, she’d found it nauseating to shake the hand of the best candidate just the other day and had forced a brittle smile when the girl had said, ‘Is it true what they say? Is he really that astoundingly gorgeous?’